


Lynchpin

by SvengoolieCat



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Cosplay, Gen, Nobody Else Does, Q has a nice week, R is a hero, SDCC, Snark, Vacation, While the Overlord is away the minions will play, salty language, spot the geekery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 13:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SvengoolieCat/pseuds/SvengoolieCat
Summary: “MI6 will not fall to pieces if I go on vacation,” Q declares. He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, turns the light off in his office, and ignores his minions’ collective uneasiness. “It’s only a week and a half.”R chases after him. “Yes, but it’s practically on the other side of the world.”In which Q takes some well-deserved time off to go to SDCC, and R must contend with the various brands of derangement left behind: the pyros, the agents, and the Decontamination Shower Club.





	Lynchpin

 

 

 

**Day -1 of Q’s Vacation:**

“MI6 will not fall to pieces if I go on vacation,” Q declares. He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, turns the light off in his office, and ignores his minions’ collective uneasiness. “It’s only a week and a half.”

R chases after him. “Yes, but it’s practically on the other side of the world.”

“I don’t see your point.”

“The world has gone to hell and the Quartermaster is going on vacation.”

“The world is always hellish.” They wait for the lift. “And going to SDCC is going to remind me that it’s not all awful, and that some of it is worth saving.”

SDCC, the Holy Grail of geekdom. A whole week of wild cosplay, panels, and loud impromptu dance parties on the edges of the dealers’ rooms. Functionally, Q would be more or less out of touch, thriving on the loud energy, and in full-cosplay. The field agent tasked with accompanying him would be the only mode of communication with the Branch while he was out and about, because the din of the convention would drown out any attempts to phone him.

The lift arrives.

Q turns to R, suddenly serious. Hands on her shoulders, full eye contact.

“It’s only a week. You can do this. Carry on like normal. Don’t let Stevens set anything else on fire. Make sure to scold the agents thoroughly, and if Bond is irritating, you have my permission to zap him with the experimental cattle-prod. Don’t tell him where I’ve gone, I don’t want to be tracked down at SDCC. You know how trouble follows him.”

R grumbles an affirmative. Q beams. “That’s the spirit,” he says, “I’ll bring you back something nice and nerdy. And R? Don’t call me unless MI6 blows up.” With that proclamation, he was gone.

 

**Day 1 of Q’s Vacation:**

Q arrives jetlagged at the hotel. It’s a much nicer hotel than he’s used to—there’s three pools, two bars, an upscale restaurant, a gym, complimentary laundry services, and a spa. While the field agent with him scouts the premises and settles into the connecting room, Q orders a massage and facial sessions at the spa for later that afternoon, and phones room service for a gigantic cheeseburger and chips to be delivered after a luxurious hour-long nap. _This is the life_ , he thinks.

 

_Meanwhile, back at MI6:_

Things go well. R is pleasantly surprised. Nothing blows up, nobody is killed, 005 actually listens to directions for once. R isn’t sure what she was so worried about. She signs her name to the paperwork in front of her and hands it to a minion. Q-Branch without Q isn’t terrible.

 

 

**Day 2 of Q’s Vacation:**

Q sleeps in to 9am. He hasn’t slept in since becoming Quartermaster. This is lovely. He orders brunch from room service and puts away a stack of Belgium waffles, two eggs, a rasher of bacon, and two cups of black tea. He checks his phone only once out of habit, and seeing no messages, puts it in the safe. He grabs a towel and sunscreen and spends the early afternoon at the pool. There’s a bar and grill by the pool, so he has a late lunch of grilled chicken salad and a beer.

The convention doesn’t officially begin until the next day but there’s a preview night before it all kicks off, so he puts on street clothes and attends the Sneak Peek Screening to see what’s new in movies and TV.

 

_Meanwhile, back at MI6:_

R is discussing a new prototype poison delivery system with a tech when someone drops a vial of experimental cultures in the lab, triggering a biohazard alarm and quarantine protocols. There’s a seven-person nerd herd stampede for the three available hazmat showers, and R has never seen so much flabby, sun-deprived flesh on display as clothes are ripped off and people leap into ice-cold, high pressure showers together to scrub down.

Medical is alerted, and a hazmat team does a full sweep of the lab before clearing them. It doesn’t take longer than a couple of hours, mainly because this is Q-Branch and stuff like this happens every other week. In fact, R is the only one weirded out. Everyone else just changes into sterile scrubs and waits for the all clear, chatting about their projects like they’re on an extended coffee break.

“It’s your first time, honey?” one of the techs says. She palms back a mess of springy red hair and grins at R. “This wasn’t bad…sometimes they have to get the hazmat team in here to scrub us down like elephants. Long handled brushes, cold hoses, the works.”

"We call ourselves the Decontamination Shower Club. Last one scrubbed buys the first round at the pub," another researcher says, draping a towel over his shoulder.

R is horrified.

 

 

**Day 3 of Q’s Vacation:**

Q is up early, has breakfast, and changes into his first costume of the Con: Spock. He tames his hair with comb and gel, attaches his pointy ears, and puts on an OS science officer’s uniform complete with vintage phaser that Q might have turned into a working taser, and a communicator. To his surprise, his minder for his vacation emerges from their connecting rooms, wearing a OS red engineer’s uniform and declares his name is Scotty. (His name is actually Tim, but he’s from Edinburgh and Q is delighted.)

He’s got a full day planned between panels. There’s a late morning panel with John Barrowman that he goes to, and manages to score a seat in the second row. His next panel is about Nanotechnology and science fiction. Afterward Q takes a stroll around the dealers’ room. He finds a poster he likes, attends a late afternoon panel on using science to create art before calling it a day and going back to the pool.

 

_Meanwhile, back at MI6:_

“Where is Q?” Bond asks. He’s back from Morocco, looking slightly worse for wear, turning in his equipment. R checks in the tech, makes unhappy noises over the dents in the Walther—did he hit someone with it?

“On vacation,” she says.

Blond eyebrows lift. “He takes those?”

“Obviously. He’s not here. Go away, 007, I’m busy.”

Bond smiles like a shark, blue eyes glittering. R has the sinking suspicion that she’s going to have to contend with Bond’s impure fascination with their Overlord. He won’t get anything out of her, she vows. Everyone who sleeps with Bond seems to die, and the minions are terribly fond of Q.

 

 

**Day 4 of Q’s Vacation:**

Friday starts with a hearty breakfast before Q changes into his second costume: a Jedi. After the uniform of the day before, the loose, swishing robes and cloak are comfortable. Tim emerges from his room wearing an ugly orange ear hat and says his name is Jayne (later he will be serenaded with _The Ballad of Jayne_ by some tipsy fangirls, and he will sing along, offkey and loud. Q maybe considers that he might have a new best friend). The first panel of the day is a spotlight on Marjorie Liu. He gets to meet her, and gets a signed copy of her _Monstress_ , which is one of his favorite graphic novels. It’s a pretty great morning.

He sharks around the dealers’ room again and finds a _Supernatural_ necklace for R. It has a pentagram/sun charm, and a tiny vial of salt, and Q is sufficiently charmed with it. He wonders briefly how she’s doing, decides she’s probably fine, and then sprints for his next panel. Don’t want to miss the talk on _Deadpool_.

He calls it an early day, and spends an hour or so by the pool, drinking sugary, tropical cocktails that go down a little too easy. To his surprise, he’s tanning really well and thinks he might be as dark as Bond before too long.

 

  _Meanwhile, at MI6:_

All the missions seem to blow up at once. 005 gets a little bit shot in South Korea, 009 goes off grid in Italy, and 004 accidentally kills the wrong mark.

“Identical twin brothers,” she growls. “who marry identical twin sisters. Who the fuck does that? Isn’t that incest or something? Even their kids look all alike.”

“I don’t know,” R sighs, and sets about damage control. She isn’t interested in the intricacies of twincest. She hasn’t been home in 36 hours, hasn’t showered or changed her clothes in the same amount of time, has consumed several pots of shitty coffee all by herself, and is seriously tempted to hack a drone to blow something up.

 

 

**Day 5 of Q’s Vacation:**

They get a late start on Saturday and don’t show up to the convention center until after lunch. Apparently, Q’s alcohol tolerance is not what it used to be and he wakes with a hangover the likes of which he’d not had since graduate school. Tim orders him burnt toast and a Tequila Sunrise for breakfast and doesn’t quite manage not to giggle at the bedraggled Quartermaster. Q rethinks his plan to make Tim his best friend.

Dressed in street clothes, because Q cannot be bothered to think about cosplay when his head wants to fall off, they narrowly make it to a panel on female directors on Hollywood, and then sprint for a 2:30 preview on the new Star Trek. Q finds a Game of Thrones sword letter opener for Mallory, and a Walking Dead t-shirt for Tanner.

Later that night, Q remembers his phone in the safe and realizes he hasn’t checked it for a while. He puts it on the charger, eats the gigantic fudge brownie sundae he ordered from room service, and watches a CSI marathon on TV and heckles the bad science. He also kind of misses his cats.

 

_Meanwhile, at MI6:_

Everything is on fire.

Everything.

“STEVENS,” she bellows, brandishing a fire extinguisher. “I’m going to see to it that all damages come out of your goddamn paycheck.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says meekly. He’s missing his eyebrows again.

 

 

**Day 6 of Q’s Vacation:**

Last day of the SDCC. Q’s feet are killing him all the way up to the roots of his hair. But he’s determined to enjoy the con to the very bitter end. He fluffs up his unruly hair, dons a long swishy coat, and grabs his sonic screwdriver on his way out the door. Tim emerges from his room wearing a bow tie and brandishing his own sonic screwdriver: “Call me Doctor…” he stops, sees Q’s costume. “Oh.”

_Definitely friend material_ , Q thinks, as they swagger down to the con as Doctors Ten and Eleven. They attend panels and haunt the dealers’ room one last time. Q finds a series of re-imagined Disney princess art prints where the princesses are armed, dangerous, and edgy. He’s enchanted by them and buys several of the collection for Moneypenny. There’s also an etched glassware merchant selling geek themed shotglasses at a discount. Q can’t decide which ones he likes most, so he picks out ten. The seller thinks he’s cute and throws in two more free.

He ends the day by the pool, letting the sun seep into his sore muscles. He schedules a spa day for the next morning.

 

_Meanwhile, at MI6:_

All hell has broken loose.

China has been trying to hack their systems for the better part of the morning, and R has been leading the minions on to war. They’re maintaining the lines in their security, shoring up weak points, and in general giving the Chinese hell.

R loves it. She puts on Q’s hackathon playlist, and it blasts through Q-Branch while the boffins repel attacks and hit back. This is a cyber duel she has no intention of losing. There’s no way in hell that she’s going to stand in front of Q when he comes back and admit a failure of defenses.

“He’s not at home,” says a voice by her ear.

“Fuck off, 007, we’re in the middle of a battle here. Besides, I’ll never betray the Overlord to you and your Cock of Doom.” With that grand statement out of the way, and resultant cheers echoing above the music, she cracks open another Dr. Pepper and chugs half of it in a go, belches twice, and doesn’t give MI6’s deadliest agent another thought. Bond stares at her in horror and then leaves.

 

 

**Day 7 of Q’s Vacation:**

Q spends the day in recovery from the convention. He sleeps in, eats another giant stack of waffles, and spends the entire morning in the spa. He gets a full body massage, a facial, and a basic mani-pedi (because why not?), and spends time in the sauna. With the tension beaten out of him, Q spends his last afternoon by the pool, preening over his tan and smelling like coconuts.

No wonder Bond doesn’t come home right away, he thinks. He flips over to tan his back more evenly and turns the page of his novel.

  

_Meanwhile, at MI6:_

“Please tell me he comes back soon,” M says.

“Thursday,” R says.

They look out over the controlled chaos that is Q-branch. Something is smoldering in a metal trashcan off in the corner, there’s a pervasive scent of burnt popcorn lingering in the air. R gets a page that the quarantine protocols have gone off in one of the labs again. There’s a distant sound of thunder that could be gunshots, fireworks, an explosion, or actual thunder and at this point, R’s not sure which is more likely.

“How does he keep this all wrangled?” asked M.

“I have no idea,” R says. She’s on her fifth cup of coffee. Her hands are shaking. She needs a nap, a shower, and an entire pizza. “I think he’s maybe Gandalf.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“No.”

 

 

**Thursday:**

It’s five in the morning, and Q comes in before the morning shift. The Branch is quiet, with only the graveyard shift manning their posts, and at catching sight of him one of the techs burst into tears. Weird. He makes a pot of tea in the breakroom, heats up one of those oatmeal-in-a-cup things, and putters about his office, catching up on what he’s missed. He leaves R’s present on her desk, and pops up to see Mallory, Moneypenny, and Tanner before his day really starts.

R drags in at half past eight. She’s looked better. Her hair is sleek as always, but her usually pressed and polished appearance seems a bit disheveled, like she’s wearing clothes straight from the dryer instead of the ironing board. There are dark rings under her eyes.

“Everything looks good, R,” he says. “I told you you’d get by without me.”

R stares at him. Takes in the tan, the easy smile, the healthy glow she’s never seen on him before. No wonder Bond is making puppy eyes after him. He’s pretty when his shoulders aren’t up around his ears. She drops her bag on her chair. “What day is it? Is it Thursday?”

“It is,” he says. “Why?”

“Ha,” she says faintly.

“I brought you a present.” He beams, and goes back into his office with his cup of tea. There’s a stack of reports he needs to sort through, and 003 is to be kitted out for a trip to Columbia.

Life goes on.


End file.
